Decisions
by RavenFal
Summary: Everyone keeps pressuring Yuuri to decide on his feelings for Wolfram. Maybe that push is just what he needed.


"You need to make up your mind."

When Yūri had acquiesced to his older brother's demand that they talk before he went back to Shin Makoku, he hadn't thought the subject of discussion would be Wolfram. In fact, if Shōri didn't have his back pressed against the door, the young Maō would have already jumped down the bathtub. Murata was already waiting in the bathroom; Shōri's demand had taken them both by surprise.

"You can't keep leading him on like this."

Leading him on? What, did his brother think he was some kind of womanizer? "I've told him plenty of times that I don't feel the same way," the young Maō asserted, "It's not my fault he doesn't listen."

"Then why haven't you ended your engagement?"

Yūri's only response was to stutter for a couple of seconds, shoulders and arms halfway raising into an "I don't know" pose before saying, "I don't want to hurt him."

"And you think this won't?" Shōri's voice was harsh. For whatever reason, he was serious about this, serious enough to yell at his precious Yu-chan. "You're almost seventeen. Over a year our time, never mind _theirs_ , you've been keeping his hopes alive. You think that after another year, or five, or ten, when you finally break his heart, it'll be _easier_ on him?" Yūri could only drop his head at that, and the sight made Shōri step forward, put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, and soften his tone. "Yu-chan, if hurting him is all that's stopping you, then breaking it off now is the best thing to do. So will you?"

Head still down, Yūri responded with, "I don't know."

His elder brother sighed. "Yu-chan, look me in the eye."

He didn't.

"Look me in the eye," Shōri's tone was approaching it's former harshness, and the young Maō complied. "Now tell me you don't love him."

Pained confusion stared up at the elder brother. Then the young Maō pushed him aside, ran out the door, grabbed Murata as his friend let out a startled, "Shibuya?" and jumped into the tub, emerging in the fountain at the Shinō Temple.

Back on earth, Shibuya Miko approached her eldest son, an unusual concern sprawled on her face. "Do you think he'll be alright, Sho-chan?"

Again, the elder brother sighed. "I know he won't break it off, at least. I'm more worried for that boy; Yūri's stubbornness might make him a good king, but it also means that, without a push, he'll never see himself properly."

"I'm sorry we asked you to do this, Sho-chan," the mother said, placing a hand on her son's arm. "It's just, since you've actually been to Shin Makoku, Papa and I thought that –"

"It's fine," was Shōri's reply as he lightly brushed the arm away. "It's my duty as Yu-chan's older brother."

* * *

"Oh, so it was about Lord von Biefeld." Murata's tone was calm and collected, as usual.

The two teens were putting their respective black outfits on, away from the current topic of conversation and his half-brother, who, like always, had arrived to meet them.

"You say that like you knew it was coming," Yūri replied, face dropped into the closest thing to a scowl the young boy could manage.

The light from the temple hid Murata's eyes behind the gleam of his glasses as he raised his hands in defense. "I swear I had nothing to do with it, but given Shōri's big brother complex, a talk like this was bound to happen." Yūri didn't seem any more convinced, so his friend quickly added, "Though I didn't think it would take a turn like that."

Yūri let the scowl fall off his face as he sighed. "Why does everyone seem to think I love Wolfram?"

"Well Shibuya," Murata's tone lacked any playfulness; this was more than idle speculation, "you do act like a family. And I don't just mean the bickering; you've referred to Greta as 'our daughter' in the past, the two of you share a bed every night, and, like your brother said, you haven't done anything to end your engagement." Before Yūri could launch into counter arguments, his friend added, "I've seen you when you're serious. When you want something, no one is stubborn enough to get you to back down. But here you are, almost two years into an engagement, with your fiancé sleeping in your bed, and you treat both of these as perfectly normal."

Yūri wanted to assert that it was Wolfram's fault for always coming into his bed at night, how he had given Wolfram plenty of ways to break off their engagement without hurting his pride, but he couldn't. Murata was right, even if it had been abnormal the first few months, he had grown closer and closer to Wolfram ever since Greta came into their lives. It had become normal, sharing his bed with the two of them. Yes, he felt like Wolfram was family. But love? _That_ kind of love? It couldn't be.

"You're right. Wolfram's become so much more to me than we met. He's like family. He's my best friend. No offense."

Murata pushed his glasses further up his nose. "None taken. It's not uncommon to fall in love with –"

"But it's not that kind of love!" Yūri was on his feet now. "It can't be!"

Startled, Murata fell on his butt. Looking up at his friend with a confused face, eyes now visible behind his lenses, he asked, "Why not, Shibuya?"

"It didn't happen right!" When Murata's confused look refused to subside, the young Maō clarified, "When you fall in love with someone, you're supposed to know right away! Well, maybe not right away, but you should at least have that moment. That moment when suddenly everything changes, and you know that this is the person you'll spend the rest of your life with."

Murata's face changed from a look of confusion to an open-mouthed look of incredulousness. What, was Yūri expecting sparks and fireworks too? Maybe some sappy violin music? Then he remembered who the boy's parents were, and suddenly it all made sense. Mama Shibuya may be a good cook, but she was also a major source of her youngest's naivete. With a sigh, Murata stood up, knowing he wouldn't be able to do this on his own. Agreeing to drop the subject, the two friends returned to the temple's courtyard where Conrad and Wolfram were waiting.

"Shall we return to the castle, Your Majesty?" Conrad asked, his characteristic smile on his face.

"Call me Yūri, you're the one who named me," Yūri replied with a huff.

"Actually," Murata interjected, "there's something I've been meaning to speak with Lord Weller about."

"Your Grace?" Conrad asked with concern.

"Don't worry, it's not about any new threat or some problem one of my past lives left behind," the sage responded. "I promise that he'll be back in Blood Pledge Castle within an hour."

"Well, if you're sure," was Yūri's hesitant response.

"Wimp," came his fiancé's response. "For all your talk about trust, you're still worried that these two are going to run off again, even when you have me here to protect you."

"Don't call me a wimp."

As the couple left the temple, the ex-prince looked towards the sage inquisitively, and the sage beaconed him inside. Murata's past lives might not have had the wisdom to overcome a mother's words, but there was a good chance the king's own godfather could.

* * *

The following morning, Yūri and Conrad were playing catch in the castle's courtyard, as they often did. A smile was upon both there faces when Conrad decided to brave the waters.

"So Your Majesty," the boy's godfather began.

Mild annoyance crossing his face, the young Maō caught the ball. As he tossed the ball back, he said, "It's Yūri, Conrad."

"Of course." The smile was still on his face. "Yūri, I wanted to ask you about Wolfram." The ball was returned.

"Agh, don't tell me you think we're in love too." He threw the ball back.

"It's not about that. Rather, I wanted to know if you were planning on breaking off the engagement any time soon. As your godfather and his older brother, I don't want the two of you to be trapped in a love match that isn't going anywhere." Again, the ball was thrown. "Unless, your beginning to have second thoughts?"

An exasperated sigh left the young man's lips. "It's not that I don't love Wolfram. It's just, I don't love him in _that_ way." He tossed the ball back.

"And what way is that?" Conrad asked, before throwing the ball.

"You know, there's that moment when suddenly you can't stop thinking about them, and you just _know_ they're the one. Really it's more like the two of us are really close relatives. Well that's not quite right, but you get the idea." This time, his throw was a little too far to the left, and Conrad had to lean his body to catch it.

Brushing off his king's apology, the ex-prince continued as he tossed the ball. "Yes, the two of you have certainly come a long way from that night. I'd even go so far as to say you hated each other back then."

The young man only hung his head at the memory, before returning the ball.

"Still, I don't think there has to be any moments like that in your relationship. Or in ours." He threw the ball, and kept talking even as the boy caught and returned it with a quizzical expression on his face. "When we first met, I was devoted to you because you held Julia's soul. But as time went on, I realized that, at some point I couldn't determine, that had stopped mattering. I serve you because you are _you_ , even though that feeling grew out of something different. Maybe it's the same for you." He tossed the ball again. "I know it is for Wolfram."

Yūri caught the ball, and held onto it. His head bowed slightly in thought.

Conrad continued, his smile dropping into the nostalgic, reflective face of a parent recalling their youth. "Sometimes you look back and realize that moment already happened, that it passed you by without you even knowing." He lowered his hands, and began removing his glove. "I could be wrong of course, it's not like I know everything that goes on inside your head. Still, I'd like you to give it some thought."

Yūri looked up, and gave his godfather a hesitant nod.

Conrad's smile returned. "Good, now how about we head inside. It's just about time for you to get to work signing papers."

With a groan, Yūri followed the older man inside.

* * *

Yūri was acting odd. Ever since he started his morning work, he kept glancing at Wolfram, then glancing down the moment Wolfram spotted him. Wolfram would've welcomed the glances if they were flirtatious or lusty, even a light blush on his fiancé's cheeks would have been an excellent sign their relationship was finally moving forward. But it was none of those. The glances were inquisitive, critical, like he was working out a puzzle in his head, and Wolfram's body was a clue.

So when Yūri asked to speak with him privately after supper, Wolfram didn't know what to think. And when Yūri brought them to the balcony on the highest tower, his confusion only increased.

"Wolfram," Yūri said when they were both standing at the railing, "I need your help."

Wolfram blinked. Help? That's what this was about? "W-What do you need?" In his confusion, the ex-prince forgot to add the obligatory "wimp" to the end of his question.

"I need your help, to figure out my feelings," Yūri said as he turned to look Wolfram square in the eyes.

Those eyes; Wolfram rarely saw his fiancé's eyes look so serious, or so lost. All he could do was nod his head, and let Yūri continue.

"Calling you my best friend would be an understatement; you're like family to me. No, you're closer than family. But I don't know if I love you in the same way you love me. The idea of liking another guy that way; it's as foreign to me as the idea of peacefully coexisting with humans was to you when I first arrived here. And just like I helped you overcome that, maybe you can help me overcome this."

Of course he would! Yūri was his fiancé, his love. If he needed help, especially with their relationship, Wolfram would be at his side within a heartbeat. Yet all Wolfram could do under those eyes was nod, and mutter, "What do you need?"

Yūri glanced to the side as he thought, freeing Wolfram from his gaze for a moment. When his eyes returned, they were accompanied by his hands taking hold of Wolfram's.

"Kiss me."

Wolfram started. He certainly hadn't been expecting anything that intimate. Later, when he would think back to this moment, Wolfram would realize it was the only short-term test they could have applied; they were already sharing a bed and raising a child after all. But then an there, all he could see was Yūri's lost eyes, and all he could feel was the desire to help him.

Wolfram leaned forward, eyes closing, turning his head just enough so as to avoid bumping noses, and brought his lips in contact with his fiancé's. The kiss lasted a few seconds, each participant trying to take as much away from this kiss as possible. Yūri needed to be sure of what he was feeling, and Wolfram knew this might be the last time in a long time he would get to kiss his beloved.

When they pulled back, Yūri's eyes had changed. No longer were they lost, begging for answers. Now they were … fearful? Excited? Wolfram wasn't sure, but he knew he had to do something, it was the whole reason they were standing here. So, never breaking eye contact he simply asked, "Can I kiss you again?"

A pause, a pause that lasted only a few breaths, but in that time, their eyes remained locked. Then Yūri's response broke the silence.

"Yes."


End file.
